


Brigand among Treasures

by DoggieCornerW



Series: Dragon Marked for Death small tales [5]
Category: Dragon Marked For Death (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoggieCornerW/pseuds/DoggieCornerW
Summary: 5th story for DMFD character Bandit; playable on April 21st, 2020. The character is associated with the DLC character Revalis, who collects relics to battle and dislikes his dragon blood.
Series: Dragon Marked for Death small tales [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566907
Kudos: 3





	Brigand among Treasures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OneEyedRiot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneEyedRiot/gifts), [da_gecko_stingray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_gecko_stingray/gifts).



Why do living creatures rob from one another? Especially the spiritual essence of other beings?

In the Dragonblood clan, heralded by the opposite Divine Family as the dregs of all nature, there lived a boy named Noel. He carried a steel fang in one palm, and in the other, a so-called “life snatcher”. It’s said that he lived up to the name of “Bandit” so well that he stole even the quintessence of living creatures.

The chief’s daughter was a leading beacon of light, diplomatic and a tactician for her friend the Oracle; the axe-wielding fisherman fed and raised his brothers in an orphanage; a magician taught the world of modern and ancient ways, including magic; the ninja trained diligently to defeat foes and to investigate the dangerous outside world, traversing treacherous terrains.

What could the Bandit do?

Perhaps inspired by the Oracle, Noel committed himself to his individuality and protecting the weak. He was also an avid adventurer and loved to grasp his hands onto anything that twinkled in his eyes, from gold to freshwater rocks. To him, the world was wide and filled with many trinkets, whether its flesh or material.

“I want to find that one cream of the crop. Out of all _takara_ (jewels, treasure), what is the best one?”

His adventures would go so far that he would sometimes cross paths and clash with Shino the white-haired ninja.

“Do your travels serve any purpose? Because of you, we were discovered by scouting knights.”

“Since it’s my responsibility, I’ll take care of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“What else? I’m gonna help you while you high tail it out of here. Isn’t that pleasant?”

“I will not owe you a thing.”

“You could just say thank you, but maybe that was a ‘thank you’.”

Usually Divine Knights patrolled the outskirts of the capital for possible threats such as aggressive creatures or degenerate mercenaries. Meeting Noel, the bandit was resting high up in a tree.

“May I help you gentlemen with something? Offering to the poor? Or are you looking for meat to hunt? For bird, fish and goat, I prefer near the windmill village.”

“That uniform and scar. A Dragonblood! We saw your kind snooping around our jurisdiction. Do you want to lose your life?”

“What? I assure you that we don’t want any trouble. I sure don’t, but if you guys do, how about tussling with me instead?” It was provocation all the while Noel bounced upon the knights’ heads, grabbed coins, and dashed away.

With his speed and ability to hide and reach great heights, the distraction plan was successful. Noel had a cool demeanor and honest eyes; arrogance or recklessness seemed belied, but tucked within was a sharp tongue. Except for Amica the Oracle and the muscle fisherman, most people found him a “running out of control type” for his adventurous nature.

That fateful night came.

Returning back to the destruction of his village and home, Noel found his mother dead and committed immoderate time to find survivors. One thing he noticed was that Amica was not among the dead. At first, he wondered if all of this was his fault – for taunting the knights.

He contained his fury and sought out another recon squad, stealthy watching them from the trees and listening in on their conversation. He heard that the leader of the knights instigated the attack and captured the Oracle. Hearing scoff towards his dead companions and mother, Noel’s hand shook as he gripped his knife hard.

He waited, listening to them more, and then he realized that something felt more methodical. Considering the peace the village has contained, despite foul society and disrespect, could the knights have attacked ages ago?

Later, Atruum awakened Noel’s scar and the boy headed for the slums of Medius. He hid his morphed arm with a cloak, and met an old female peddler.

“’ey boy, where you get these goods? Sure you ain’t yankin’ my leg here son. That wouldn’t be nice.”

“World’s filled with them. They won’t crack into dust; never would I want to hold some sham and give it to someone else. You can call me a treasure hunter.”

“Hehe, aren’t you an interesting Dragonblood. Shame what happened to ya’ll.”

“Madam, tell me why?” Cool and collected, if vengeance or anger was within him, one could not tell.

“What?”

“Why they had to die?”

“The clan? The head honcho knight did it, but as always the king has the final say.”

Somehow, the two sat down next to each other and were absorbed into casual talk. Maybe Noel was grateful; he was in Medius’s slums and there’s proof that flowers could bloom anywhere. Maybe he wanted someone parallel to his mother to talk to. Still, in contrast to his mother, the trade lady had a rugged, heavy way of speaking.

“’ey son, you don hate yourself do you?” The lady asked.

“Why?”

“Cause you be Dragonblood an’ all. So all this happen to ya.”

“Maybe. A little.” Looking at his knees, Noel considered his next words carefully. He still carried his knife, protruding out of his cloak sleeve. He only spoke the truth because he knew of the social slander his kind had to face. Ultimately, their demise occurred by the hands of the slander’s catalyst – Medius.

“But, if my comrades didn’t hate themselves then why should I? Sure, I was a pain in the ass to them and the knights sometimes, but as an adventurer, I enjoyed the life around me.”

“A free soul hah?” A trade woman carried a smile. Somehow, it was hard to read, being a strange mix of happy yet sad. “What d’ya plan to do?”

Noal slapped his knees. “Got to be something! My senses are tinglin’. I know a nose that covets something, and no king just wants to kill us. There’s something more.”

“Afraid?”

“It’s not fear. However, I do know that if I killed the king, and I have a good enough reason, this entire nation will enter a calamity.”

“Frank, I see. Vanilla plain.” It felt like a compliment.

Being young and raised by his mother, he wanted to be called a “loving wild child” again, and he was well reminded that murder was indiscriminate even towards the innocent. Noel will admit that he imagined plunging the dagger into the King’s heart, to satisfy himself by avenging his mother and the others.

Noel’s solo investigation began.

“If he’s evil, I will strike him down.” He promised; taking jobs from the inn, Noel’s investigation would turn into a wide-scale adventure in itself. Everyone he saw all kinds of treasures, those that superficially shined like a dragon’s horde, and those that blossomed with a flower’s heart.

A scarred man full of curiosity.

A girl who loved his young brother.

An assiduous carpenter.

A thought-engaging flight inventor.

Men that wept for their dead captain.

Life was full of treasure.


End file.
